


Your Side of Goodbye

by tumbleweedfarm



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, M/M, Vent Piece, short fic, time to project again
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-18
Updated: 2021-01-18
Packaged: 2021-03-16 06:46:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28826907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tumbleweedfarm/pseuds/tumbleweedfarm
Summary: Iwaizumi is good at goodbyes. But Oikawa Tooru isn't just a goodbye.
Relationships: Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru
Comments: 8
Kudos: 27





	Your Side of Goodbye

Every goodbye feels different.

They’re supposed to. The light goodbyes at the end of the day, when no one will be missed, are the easiest. They’re simple. A smile, maybe a shake of the hand, and the promise of tomorrow. Iwaizumi misses those goodbyes.

There are the goodbyes with family, with loved ones only to be seen on holidays and reunions. They ache a little more. Iwaizumi smiles at the pats on his shoulder from the many hands that held him as a baby. But these goodbyes are still full of smiles and promises. 

The painful goodbyes don’t really start until the end of high school. California is calling, and Iwaizumi answers. The opportunity is almost drowned out by the feeling of Hanamaki and Matsunkawa holding him tight at the airport. They aren’t usually huggers.

But there’s one goodbye that’s so painful, Iwaizumi doesn’t allow it to be categorized. It feels selfish, to let a goodbye from one person outweigh the goodbyes from the hands and hearts that raised him. But that’s just what Oikawa Tooru does.

Six months, they say. I’ll see you then, they say. 

I’ll miss you, they don’t say.

Words make the distance real. Words tie them together. Words remind Iwaizumi of their first kiss in his backyard, of their last kiss in his car in a California airport. Iwaizumi wonders if it really will be their last, one day.

Oikawa takes up the highs and lows, every extreme in Iwaizumi’s head. He’s every first and every last, Iwaizumi knows. Oikawa Tooru is made of hopes and fears, stitched together with sunlight. Iwaizumi fears he’ll pop the threads.

The baggage claim of Oakland International Airport has seen more of Iwaizumi’s tears than his own parents. The joyful ones he can’t help but laugh through when Oikawa lifts him in the air. The ones that rip his throat and make his chest ache when he hits the ground again. Oikawa lays his claim on those, too. 

It’s no surprise when Oikawa is in the passenger seat of Iwaizumi’s best and worst car rides.

Oikawa is a splash of sunlight on the way to Iwaizumi’s dorm. God, he’s beautiful. His shoulders are broader, his skin spilling with gold. He smiles more, now. Iwaizumi knows it’s who Oikawa is supposed to be. He only wishes he were there to watch it happen. 

Time moves quickly and slowly all at once with Oikawa. The time Iwaizumi spends by his side is never enough, the time spent away too much. 

The worst is the car ride back to the airport.

It’s always dark, somehow. Iwaizumi picks the music. Some guitar solo has been going for what feels like an hour. Maybe it’s only been a minute.

It’s a violent silence, these trips. Iwaizumi drags Oikawa’s hand across the console to intertwine with his own. He stubbornly drives with just his left hand. It doesn’t matter. He isn’t going fast enough for it to be a risk.

Iwaizumi tries to memorize the way Oikawa’s fingers feel against his palm. Warm, heavy, soothing. But he knows the feeling will be gone as soon as they say goodbye. Because that’s what Oikawa Tooru does. 

Selfishly, Iwaizumi lets himself take the moment for himself. So what if he drives the speed limit? So what if he waits for the light to turn green before he turns right, despite having ample time to go? So what if he holds Oikawa’s hand a little tighter?

He’s not allowed to cry here. It’s one of their unwritten rules.

Iwaizumi finds things to savor. The sweetest kisses are always shared before a goodbye. Desperation has such an intoxicating taste. It’s so familiar on Iwaizumi’s tongue that he forgets what Oikawa tastes like without it. He hopes he can remember, some day.

Six months, they say. One day, they say.

I love you, they don’t say.

They don’t have to. It’s been whispered between their lips on hot summer nights, fogging up the windows of cars, leaving handprints on walls. It’s been kissed into fingertips and throats, carved into breaths and ribs. 

Oikawa leaves. And when he gets back, in six months, he says, his shoulders will be broader. His skin will spill gold. And he will claim another high, another low.

Because that’s what Oikawa Tooru does. 

~

_I find myself in a car I’ve driven before, on a road I know too well, with a boy I can’t keep._

_He is everything I want, except mine._

_I take the long road to bring him home. He doesn’t say anything._

_The song he’s playing is the only piece of time that feels long, tonight._

_So I’ll go the speed limit, and watch for deer, and slow my turns._

_He doesn’t say it, but he and I both know I’m not that good a driver._

_And I’ll listen to his song and try to memorize how he feels, both next to me and on my chest._

_It’s futile, he knows it, too. He doesn’t say it._

_We don’t say much of anything, anymore._

_Six months, we say._

_I’ll miss you, we don’t say._

_Because words make it real._

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This was a little piece to help me with some writer's block. I'll be back to regular uploads soon.
> 
> Twitter: @tumbleweedfarm_


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